I have this thing about driveways. Not that I have one anymore, not since mine was stolen right out from under me by the judicial system and the little gremlin of an attorney my ex-husband hired to represent him in the divorce.
I've recovered enough, at least financially, to the point of being able to purchase a run down little shack out in the sticks but could only afford the dirt that connects my humble abode to the street and not the asphalt that most homeowners put on top of that dirt and label a driveway.
Anyhow, this little strip of dirt is mine and it drives me absolutely nuts when some lost driver decides he's had enough of being lost, admits defeat, and looks for some place to turn around. Somehow my little dirt driveway seems to fit the bill, several times a day!
Very annoying when I'm outside and strangers keep pulling in and out, tearing up my dirt and all. I've put up a barrier to try and stop these lost souls, but unlike my distant neighbors, I have no drainage ditches on either side of the drive so they just pull right on up into the yard like it's theirs.
There doesn't seem to be much I can do about this problem so, as I've often done in the past, I've looked deeper into the situation in search of a hidden lesson and this is what I've been able to come up with.
I now think of my driveway as a point of reflection, a place to stop and make a decision of sorts; Not your symbolic fork in the road where a life altering decision must be made, but more a place where one can stop, think things over a bit and go back from whence they came.
Actually go back and get a "do over". The person inside that car sitting out in front of my house, invading my privacy, probably feels that perhaps they have made a wrong turn somewhere, maybe read the map wrong and instead of continuing on into the unknown, he has found a place to stop, assess the situation, safely turn himself around and head back to the point at which his mistake was made.
You don't always get this opportunity on life's many highways so I guess I'm only to happy to offer the service. In fact, on most highways, especially the one's my ex-husband was fond of driving on, you start heading in a certain direction, realize that perhaps you have made a monumental navigational mistake and before you can find an exit to get off of and turn around, you've crossed state lines and right beside you is that cute little hitch hiker of questionable age you picked up back there at that fork in the road and blue lights are flashing in the rear view mirror. Hey, supposedly this kind of thing can happen.
So, I now think of my little strip of dirt as being terribly important in the grand scheme of things, perhaps placed there by the very hand of God himself to help those that have lost their way. I can't allow myself to get upset with these people and I've reconsidered burying the large nails that I went so far as buying, out at the foot of my drive.
This reasoning will have to do for now because I can't afford to put up fences or gates or even have my little strip of dirt paved. I put some rocks down a few weeks ago but have only succeeded in making it that much easier to spot. I guess most who have lost their way are in quite a hurry to head back to more familiar ground because they are always spinning their wheels and kicking my new gravel all over the yard. Wouldn't mind putting a few nails in those guy's tires!
Not nice, I know, and before you start to look down your nose at me, God has already done so in the form of weeds growing up through my new rocks where none would grow before in plain old dirt.
Oh, the moral of the story? Think about what you're doing when you ask him for a divorce!
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